


All Cheese, No Rum, or Men in Cheeses

by shirogiku



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternative Universe - Crack, Cheese, Gen, M/M, Mystery, Nassau, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A loose sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7532317">Men in Nooses</a>: Following the revelation that Billy's future is looking awfully bleak, Ben decides to take matters into his own hands right now. Crack and cheese horror ensue.</p><p>  <i>“You named a cheese after Silver?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	All Cheese, No Rum, or Men in Cheeses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaitanah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaitanah/gifts).



_‘Do you know a cure for me?’_

_Why yes,’ he said, ‘I know a cure for everything. Good cheese.’_

_‘Cheese?’ I asked him._

_‘Yes,’ he said, ‘in one way or the other._

_Blue Stilton, or the six kinds of Cheddar, or Whitehaven.’_

_—_ Dr. Cheshire Hardcheese, _Out of Cheese, Out of Luck_

 

“No,” says Dr. Howell, in answer to Ben’s repeated questions, “the only cure for _future_ drunkenness I know of is present sobriety.”

 

Another man might have given Ben a vial of sea water or some colourful powder, but the _Walrus’s_ surgeon remains steadfast in prescribing those things to Ben himself instead, to ease his worries.

 

Do not despair, Ben keeps telling himself. It is only a question of thinking outside the cage.

 

The true answer is obviously ‘cheese’.

 

It comes to him just off the coast of Curacao. A profitable capture by all accounts, but what _he_ can’t take his eyes off is a dozen ten-pound wheels of Holland cheese. They split it up among themselves and feast on it, and that is when he makes his resolution: every time that Billy reaches for a bottle, he will find a hefty slice of cheese in its place.

 

As the war wears on, it dawns on Ben that at this rate, Nassau will run out of cheese _much_ sooner than Billy will out of reasons to want to get drunk.

 

So Ben’s next brilliant idea hits him mid-Billy’s daydream of stealing a printing press. Give Ben some goats, a cow, and hopefully a few sheep, and he will move Nassau, or at least, turn its cheese situation on its head.

 

His Mum will finally be proud of him.

 

The cheese shed that he rigs up is dark and cool and very soothing. He makes his own stamps - one for each pirate flag in their Fleet and a number of more creative ones.

 

It becomes his peaceful retreat.

 

And then, during a longer shore leave, he prods Billy and tells him that he has something to show him and his alone.

 

“Close your eyes, please?” Ben asks him, steering him towards the shed.

 

“It’s not one of those ‘my fist accidentally met with a Maroon face’ things, is it?”

 

“ _No_.” Ben pushes him through, a little annoyed. “You can look now.”

 

Billy’s eyes open and he stares around himself. He notices everything, from the spotlessly clean cheese racks to the shed’s log, chained to the table - because cheese needs as much keeping track of as any plunder.

 

Billy turns back to Ben in wonder. “You’ve been doing this all by yourself? How long?”

 

“No, I… had a little help.” He pauses. “From the cheese. A few months, between our cruises.”

 

Billy opens his mouth and closes it again. “This is… amazing!”

 

“You really think so? Oh, but I haven’t shown you _all_ of it yet!” He tugs Billy along. “Come and see my experimental cheeses!”

 

His pride and joy is a sheep’s cheese and a product of much trial and error, many a sleepless night and not nearly enough milk. It is big, round and all-around impressive-looking.

 

“It is black,” says Billy. “Why is it black?”

 

“ _Because_ its name is Round John Silver,” Ben announces. “And I have used a piece of eight as a stamp.”

 

“You named a _cheese_ after _Silver_?”

 

“Yes? Here, try a slice!” He has been meaning to let Billy do the honours, but it’s fine either way.

 

“Ben, no!”

 

He cuts out a small one, showing Billy that Round Silver is perfectly golden on the inside. “Is there a problem?”

 

Billy covers his face with his hand, and his voice comes out a bit strangled: “Mind if we… _don’t_ eat the Silver?” He peeks out at it suspiciously. “I swear, it looks like it’s plotting something!”

 

Ben nibbles on the slice thoughtfully. “It does taste a bit funny.” And his tongue was feeling strangely numb. “Do you think we should make a sort of a talisman of it instead?”

 

A day later, strange things begin to happen. A local dog who accidentally eats the slice gets awfully sick. A butter dish mysteriously empties out here, a broken broom turns up there; the tail of a mouse falls into the milk, with the rest of the mouse nowhere to be found. But it is only after Ben’s most prized _cheeses_ go missing one by one, as if somebody were picking them off, that he goes to Billy with his newest problem.

 

Billy frowns at him. “A thief in your shed? Was the lock broken?”

 

“That’s just the thing!” There are no signs of a break-in. “Do you think someone is trying to scare me?”

 

Because it is working.

 

Next, his log vanishes without a trace. Billy’s answer is to put Joji on the case, that is to say, have him guard it for a few nights.

 

It goes well until Joji wakes them up in the middle of the night, holding out a black spot.

 

“ _You_ got a black spot,” Billy repeats, trying to wrap his mind around it. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we need someone to do an exorcism.”

 

They go back to the shed all together - and just in time to hear the otherworldly noises coming from the dairy. Joji draws his sword. Billy and Ben raise their pistols.

 

“You don’t think…” Ben starts saying.

 

The dairy is covered with greasy patches from floor to ceiling, and there isn’t a single cheese left intact. The noises are spreading out from the farthest corner, its darkness, as thick as condensed milk. At their wary approach, it pushes out and _looms_ over them...

 

“That’s cannibalism, that is!” Ben feels the need to point out.

 

… before spitting out the tattered carcass of the log, which Joji cuts in half before it hits Ben square in the face.

 

 _My name is Round John Silver_ , the darkness tells them as they begin to back away slowly. _And I am the King of this shed._

 

Billy fires his pistol, its brief flare buying them some time to retreat and regroup. A pair of tendrils shoot out of the round, runny shape, grabbing Ben by the ankle. He shoots one and Joji cuts off the other, but they twist around and snatch Joji’s sword away, gobbling it up as well.

 

Ben has never seen anyone, let alone this stoic warrior, so demoralised. On the bright side, they are still alive.

 

“We should burn that fucking shed,” Billy grumbles.

 

Habitually, Ben reaches into his pocket… and lets Billy drink because suddenly, cheese is _not_ a better alternative. That poor dog. “And unleash him on the unsuspecting town?”

 

“Why not? Maybe he’ll run into the real Silver and-”

 

“-eat him?”

 

“-team up with him?” Billy finishes for himself. “Right.” Joji makes a sign. “No, no, no, what the fuck could _Flint_ do?” Another sign. “The Queen? Last time I checked, she couldn’t control Silver either.”

 

Belatedly, Ben wonders, “If Round Silver has just run out of his brothers, what is he going to eat now?”

 

Joji is looking directly at him.

 

“No!” Oh God, _what_ has he created?

 

Billy squeezes Ben’s shoulder comfortingly. “We will _not_ let him eat you, Ben. If one cheese can come alive, then there must be a way to animate its anti-cheeses.”

 

They get to it, as far from the original shed as humanly possible, but in the meanwhile, Darkness is rolling down the streets, and it is armed with multiple pirate emblems, two pistols and one Japanese sword.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, this is all Horace the Cheese's fault.


End file.
